His Contract: Legally Bound, Book 1 (16 page)

Jack slowly sucked her finger into his mouth. Lilly shifted against him, a subtle move of her hips, her eyes trained on the movements of his mouth. Her skin flushed and her eyelids fluttered as he tongued along the underside of her knuckle. He released her finger and kissed the tip.

“So when I called you those things, did it make you feel humiliated? Degraded?”

“No, Sir.”

He lowered their hands and skimmed her wet finger over her nipple, teasing it until it rose up under her touch.

“When I called you my filthy little girl, how did it make you feel?”

The freckles on her cheeks disappeared under a blush that stole down to her breasts. “It made me wet, Sir.”

Jack held her hand still. “Then listen to me carefully because I won’t say this again.”

The discipline in his tone didn’t match the tenderness of the moment, but he needed to get her attention.

“When you step in my playroom and become that needy, desperate, begging creature, it’s because I make you that way. You’re not a slut in here—you’re
my
slut,” Jack growled. “Do you see the difference? Here, you become my toy. My whore. My perfect, sweet little slut. You belong to me, little girl. And I. Fucking. Love. It.”

Jack took her hand and molded it over his cock.

“Do you feel how hard you make me? I love how badly you want it.”

He sat up and urged her onto her stomach, playing his fingers over the marks on her ass, admiring the evidence of his branding. “You’re bright red and it’s all because of me. Because you’re my sweet little slut.”

Jack pressed open-mouthed kisses to each perfectly rounded cheek. Lilly tried to shimmy away but he squeezed her waist, keeping her motionless.

“Repeat it. Say you’re my little slut.”

Her reply was halted. Hesitant. “I-I’m your little slut, Sir.”

He rubbed his palm over her hot skin. “Again.”

“I’m your slut, Sir.” This time, it was stronger. Louder.

“That’s right. And only my beautiful little slut would give me everything—every opening in her body mine for the taking.”

She was his and he was going to prove it. He was going to show her how much of her belonged to him.

Jack pried her legs open and licked over the seam of her ass. Lilly gasped as he circled her rear entrance, his tongue pushing gently at the resistance that greeted him. Her arms flailed out, and Jack grabbed her by her hips, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from thrashing around in shocked pleasure. He didn’t want to stop what he was doing long enough to order her to stay still, so he found the base of her neck with one hand and clutched her hair, a rough grip holding her down until she complied. When her arms dropped and she grasped the sheets, Jack let go, using that hand for leverage as he parted her slick folds with the other. He worked her with his fingers and tongue, reaping the satisfaction of her short, high-pitched yelps as she writhed beneath him.

“Please, oh please, oh please,” she chanted. “Please, make me come, Sir.”

Jack slid his hand underneath her desperately flexing hips to find her delicate little slit, but he didn’t do it to satisfy her pleading. He’d already decided to drive her to orgasm, unable to make her wait a second longer, because neither could he.

She cried out in a litany of
God
and
fuck
and
yes
and
Sir
. He rubbed her faster, pushing her to shudder longer. Come harder. Scream louder. When the last convulsion rocked through her, Jack ripped off the rest of his clothes, flipped her over and kneeled above her. He laved his tongue between her breasts and braced his knees on either side of her torso. Taking Lilly’s hand, he lifted it to his mouth and licked her palm, then wrapped her slim fingers around his pulsing flesh.

“See what you do to me?” he grunted, thrusting into the tight circle of her fingers. “You make me crazy too.”

It was too much—the way she was trapped beneath him, hand stroking, looking up at him with those eyes and that mouth, and fuck, he needed to come. Jack tugged her fingers away and pushed her breasts together, driving himself between them.

“Say it again.”

“I’m your slut, Sir. Yours!”

“Fuck, yes. You’re mine, all fucking mine.”

He thrust against her skin, his movements becoming sloppy and fast as his cock took the driver’s seat. His eyes slammed shut and he cursed when he came, coating her chest with sticky ribbons. When his body slowed, Lilly was as out of breath as he was. Jack climbed off her, took a towel to both their bodies and covered them with a blanket.

“Thank you, Sir,” she mumbled and curled into his side.

Jack laughed quietly, watching her drift off. “You’re welcome.”

He let his own eyes shut, a first for him. He hadn’t slept beside her before—he’d only watched her in slumber—but today he was tired. It was a relief she was too, because he wasn’t ready to let her out of his arms.

He wanted too much of her lately.

He shouldn’t have given her orders over the phone the other day, shouldn’t have beckoned her to his house or called her “little girl” on a weeknight, stepping outside of the carefully constructed lines of their agreement. It was a slip-up, something that couldn’t happen again, but it was so hard to feel wrong about something that felt so right.

Lilly’s breathing went slow and deep, and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head, nuzzling the soft, sweet-smelling strands of her hair. She was his little secret, wrapped up in his arms. They wouldn’t be able to do this forever, but for now, Jack held her close and let himself sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lilly woke up on Sunday morning to the sound of something she didn’t recognize.

As her nightmare faded, she blinked in the sunlight, trying to make sense of what she was hearing: it was birdsong, coming from the trees outside her window. She hadn’t heard that cheerful noise in months. It heralded the thaw to come—spring was only days away.

Smiling, she kicked off the blankets and stretched her arms over her head. Her body was sore from the day before, but it was a good kind of pain. It served as a reminder of her time with Jack.

She closed her eyes, remembering the sweet safety of his words.

“You’re mine, all fucking mine.”

The memory was like silk brushing between her thighs. She had to roll over onto her stomach to stop herself from stroking the ache she’d been forbidden to soothe. Hugging her pillow, she forced herself to focus on something else, and turned to look at the window. Beams of gold were slipping in through the blinds. The sun had turned every wall yellow, the strength of it warming her pillows.

She wanted to feel it shine on her face.

Jumping out of bed, she went to her closet, pushing past the suits and bulky sweaters she’d wrapped herself up in all winter. Some of her lighter clothes were packed in a duffle on the floor, where they’d been in hibernation for months. She shoved her boots aside to reach it, and when she pulled the bag from the corner, her running shoes peeked out from underneath.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Lilly settled onto the floor and picked up the sneakers. They felt like ancient objects, filled with long-silenced secrets. They’d remained untouched since Damien’s engagement announcement and the realization of how much he’d taken advantage of her. Of what a fool she’d been.

Lilly sighed and fingered the laces. They were gray from use, proof of how her time years ago had been filled with practices and track meets, blasting through school records and her own personal best. Like everything else she did, she had to excel at it. Another mile before sundown, another paper before bed, driving herself to her next accomplishment, smiling over her shoulder at the trail of glory behind her. She did the same with law school, never stopping when her goals were in sight. But Damien had made her doubt everything she felt confident in. Which was why she’d packed her running shoes away that day, along with her dreams of becoming a lawyer.

She’d forgotten how it felt to never doubt herself.

Jack, however, seemed to know exactly what she was capable of. He’d taken her by the hand and shown her, helping her deal with so many of her fears. These shoes were another block she needed to face, and for the first time in so long, she wanted to.

She put on sweats and unearthed her heart rate monitor, also stashed away in her closet. Once she’d fished her headphones from her bag, Lilly tucked her key and phone into the pocket on her armband and went outside into the surprisingly mild air. Snow was melting into grates. It trickled in rivulets down the street, nature reawakening. Lilly warmed up and took off at an easy pace. When she felt limber enough and there was a straight shot of road ahead of her, she started to run.

It was a challenge getting her heart rate up and fighting against the painful protest in her calves, but by the end of the first mile, her legs began to fly. She splashed through puddles, remembering how once there was nothing as clean as the feel of her feet on the pavement, fresh air on her face and music in her ears. Sweat used to wash away everything until there was only her heartbeat, and for the first time in so long she became a slave to that cadence, obeying its rhythm. It was similar to the state she reached in Jack’s playroom, her body moving the way he directed it, her mind silent.

After another mile, she slowed by a park and stretched out her hamstrings. She paced around a bench, her legs tingling as she checked her wristwatch and waited for her heartbeat to lower, once again recalling Jack’s words from the day before.

“My whore. My perfect, sweet little slut.”

She shivered at the memory. He was right—the word she’d hated sounded so different when it came from him. With Jack she felt so secure, so protected. She didn’t like the word, but being called
his
slut was different. In fact, if using that word was something he wanted, she knew she’d be able to bear it.

She gripped the bench, finally understanding an aspect of BDSM she never had before: submission didn’t mean being coerced, having things forced upon you or suffering the consequences of saying no. It was about intimacy. Trust. And after months of feeling ashamed, Lilly finally felt something else.

Anger.

She took off again, her heels digging at the ground. Damien knew how badly she’d wanted to please him and he’d manipulated her anyway, tugging her however he wanted, making her his own personal marionette. She’d played the part, never breathing a word about what they were doing, accepting the silent treatment when she’d displeased him and how he’d sometimes act like he didn’t know her at all. It hurt, but she thought maybe if she withstood it long enough, if she behaved just right, he’d stop making her jump through hoops. That he would realize how much she cared for him and do the things actual boyfriends did. Take care of her when she was sick. Go out to dinner. Hold her hand in public.

But that had never been in his plans.

Her anger escalated into rage, propelling her through the rest of the mile. She’d spent so much time feeling foolish, thinking she was the one at fault, when the truth was it had been Damien’s cruelty that made her believe BDSM wasn’t for her. He knew how inexperienced she was, and still he kept her in the dark. Literally and figuratively.

And Jack had shined a light on everything.

She’d thought she couldn’t do this again—could never kneel and beg and plead, losing herself to the cravings of her body. Yet here she was, already longing for next Saturday to arrive with another opportunity to serve and please him. To listen and obey and become the wanton creature he brought out in her.

By the time she neared home, her clothes were sticking to her, sweat pooling between her breasts. The sensation was a slick reminder of Jack looming above her the day before and the thick, swollen tip of his cock as it dragged over her skin. She’d wanted to feel it inside her. She still did.

Maybe she could put sex back on the table. She’d employed the soft limit to protect her heart, but there was another word Jack said yesterday that might have changed everything.

“You belong to me, little girl. And I. Fucking. Love. It.”

He loved it. Could he love her too?

No, she couldn’t think that way, couldn’t confuse Lilly with the little girl or Jack with Sir. It was absurd to try to transfer any thoughts of his ownership in the playroom into love in the daylight, no matter what contract they’d signed.

Lilly unlocked her door, but had to pause when her throat seized up and she started coughing. The tip of her nose was cold, and she rubbed at it with the back of her hand. She’d never had spring allergies before, but maybe there was something in the air here.

Well, she wasn’t going to let some East Coast pollen take her down. She’d stop at the pharmacy for some over-the-counter stuff later.

She went into work a short time later, hoping to make some progress while the office was quiet. She walked through the empty halls, her head bent over the
Globe
. They’d printed another story, one that mentioned the firm, and the rivalry between Forrester and Mahoney.

Great. Maybe she should hold on to the paper. See if there were any job postings for paralegals in the Help Wanted section.

She sighed and sat down at her desk. A Post-it note was stuck to her screen, Gabe’s handwriting scrawled across it.

Go to the company site and see what the IT department finally got around to doing.

She peeled off the note and booted up her computer, navigating to the site. Lilly squealed when she saw the company roster on the homepage, her name finally on it. It had taken a while for it to happen, but there it was in black and white. She sat back with a smile, but then another cough threw her lungs into spasm just as her cell phone rang. Making a mental note to pick up some lozenges when she hit the store later, she checked the screen.

Dad calling. Lilly swallowed a chug of water and thumbed the call button.

“Hey, Dad. It’s not our usual day.”

“Well, I hear you miss me. Was that true? Or was your brother just trying to get out of talking about himself?”

Lilly faltered, then recalled her conversation with Nick. She
had
said she missed their father. Damn traitor must’ve told him.

“Of course I miss—” Her words got cut off by another cough. She choked down another sip of water, trying to silence it.

“You coming down with something?”

“No, I’m fine. I was outside running. Pollen or whatever.”

There was the briefest pause on his end of the line. “You’re running again?”

She took a second to plan her reply. Her father had always been the one to support her, coming to every single one of her meets. Sure, Mom had been there too, but it was her father’s raucous applause and whistles Lilly heard over everyone else’s.

He must’ve known there’d been some kind of connection between her refusal to take the bar and packing up her running shoes, not to mention everything else she could fit in a suitcase and bring to Boston, but he’d never asked.

“I started again today, but it’s tough getting back into it.”

“You’ll get there.” Lilly could hear the smile in his voice. “Nick was right. You do sound happier.”

Lilly froze. Before she could ask what Nick had told him, there was a click and a muffled noise, followed by the sound of her mother’s voice. “You’re running? You’re happy? What aren’t you telling us?”

“Oh…” Lilly searched for the appropriate lie. “I’ve been asked to help out on a really important trial. It’s pretty exciting.”

They bought it, and she told them what she could until her mother grew impatient and asked if she’d started seeing anyone yet. Hoping to avoid the conversation, Lilly was relieved to see her work phone light up with a call. She was about to tell them she had to go, but the caller ID read out with a number she didn’t recognize. Voicemail it was then.

“No, Mom. I’m not seeing anyone.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. But she couldn’t really tell them that, either.

“Oh. Well, let us know when that changes.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “I will. Bye, Mom.”

She hung up, but her father stayed on the line. “In case you were wondering, I miss you too. And I’m very proud of you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that until he said it. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

They said good-bye, and she checked her voicemail, but no message had been left. She scanned back through her calls and found the one she’d missed. It was from out of town—an eight-four-seven area code number.

Evanston. The call came from Evanston, Illinois. Near Northwestern.

It could have been Damien.

Her heart stuttered, her skin prickling at the reality that he might be looking for her again. The flimsy barriers she’d put up of blocked Facebook profiles and changed phone numbers wouldn’t do much. If he wanted to find her, he would.

Rubbing her hands over her arms, she looked out the window, but as her gaze strayed toward where Jack lived, her heartbeat slowed. His protection was an invisible connection, warming her just as much as the rays of sun had this morning. The cold fingers of winter were losing their hold on the frozen ground, and so was Damien’s hold on her heart.

For so long, she’d feared if he appeared in her life again it would be impossible to say no to him. That one look into those enticing green eyes and demanding stare would cripple her back under his power. But she wouldn’t ever be lured back to him, not now that she knew how a real Dominant should treat her.

She lifted her head high. If Damien wanted to track her down, he could go right ahead. He didn’t matter anymore.